


My Honour

by DobbyRocksSocks



Series: ThunderIron [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 5+1 Fic, Avengers as family, Everything is happy and team is team, Fluff, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, In a godly kinda fashion, M/M, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Thor is Adorable, Tony Stark Has Issues, but flufffffff, maybe some hurt comfort, very little angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-09-27 23:56:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17171909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DobbyRocksSocks/pseuds/DobbyRocksSocks
Summary: Touch is powerful, Tony's always known that. Both the bad and the good.





	My Honour

Touch was a powerful thing. 

It always had been in Tony’s life. For the longest time, touch had been bad because it meant that his dad was drunk and angry, it meant that the boys were being rough and taking from him without giving back, it meant that someone was taking yet another piece of Tony without offering anything back. 

Touch was powerful, but not all power is good. 

Pepper, and Rhodey and Happy changed that. They showed Tony what a friendly clap to the shoulder was. They showed what a gently hug could do for his mood. They showed him that a light squeeze of a hand didn’t always mean rougher touches would follow. 

Touch was powerful, and Tony found himself craving it. 

He didn’t let anyone else touch him. He didn’t touch anyone else either, because touch was powerful, and he didn’t want it to have power over him, or give him power over anyone else. Touch  _ scared him,  _ not that he’d ever admit that aloud. 

Touch was powerful, and Tony had no idea that it would be his downfall; and also the making of him. 

…

I

Natasha watched him from the door, concern welling up inside her. Tony was  _ crying _ . Tony didn’t cry. He wasn’t the crying type. He never had been the over emotional kind of man, and she was at a loss to explain this abrupt departure from his norm. 

She couldn’t leave him like that though. 

“Tony?” she murmured softly. He turned to look at her, a whisky bottle held loosely in his hand. 

“Nope,” he declared, his voice throaty with emotion and alcohol. “Get out.” 

“Tony.” 

He shook his head, tear drops flying off his cheeks. “I don’t need a goddamn babysitter!” 

“Nobody said you did,” she replied, arching her eyebrow. “What’s all this about?” she asked, waving her hand to encompass the bottle, the tears, the clear distress written on every inch of him. 

He shook his head, taking another long swig from the bottle. Nat sighed. Just as she was about to give up and go find Steve to come tackle Tony to bed, Tony spoke. 

“She left me.” 

Understanding dawned and Nat felt a wave of sympathy for Tony. She knew he thought that Pepper was his  _ one person,  _ and for her to leave him must have hit him pretty hard. She knew that, once he actually slept off the alcohol, he’d be back to his masks of ego and snark, but for now, she thought, perhaps he’d actually let her comfort him. 

“I just…” he shook his head, coughing as a sob choked him. “I just want someone to look at me, and see  _ me _ , instead of what they expect to see. And… I thought she did that. Clearly I was wrong.” 

“You weren’t,” Natasha replied softly. “Pepper does see you, Tony. She just… she struggled with the way you put your life on the line so often. It must be hard, to sit on the sidelines and wait for  _ that  _ phone call.” 

Tony nodded miserably, fresh tears falling. “You know, she stood by me the whole time I was the symbol of death.  _ The Merchant of Death.  _ It’s odd that now I’m finally trying to make up for all the shit things I did, she chooses  _ now  _ to run.” 

“You weren’t together then. Being your assistant and being your girlfriend are two  _ entirely  _ different things, Tony. You know Pepper loves you, right? Just because she can’t deal with this particular thing, it doesn’t stop her loving you.” 

“She said that,” Tony muttered. “She said that, and it’s a nice sentiment, but it doesn’t mean anything really, does it?” 

Natasha stroked a hand through Tony’s hair, ignoring the minor flinch to repeat the action, smiling slightly when he leant into her touch. “When did you last sleep, Tony?” 

“Sleep is for the weak,” he mumbled, leaning against her, getting heavier and heavier by the second. 

“Sir is coming up to fifty eight hours of being awake, Agent Romanov,” JARVIS informed her, ignoring Tony’s dark mutterings of betrayal. 

“Come on,” she murmured, tugging him to his feet and holding him steady. “Let’s get you to bed.” 

She helped him into the elevator and stayed with him all the way up to the penthouse. She even stroked his cheek when she tucked him beneath the sheets. He was asleep before she left the room. 

It was only later, when she was preparing herself for bed, that she realised that was the first time Tony had ever let her touch him. 

She smiled at herself in the mirror before she left her bathroom and climbed into her own bed. It was about time he started to let his walls down around the team. Perhaps, one day, they’d even convince him that they weren’t going to leave him. 

…

II

The vultures thrust their microphones forwards, each of them waiting on one of the Avengers to start fielding questions. They’d just finished fighting Doom’s latest attempt at taking over, and the press were eagerly awaiting a statement on the fight. Usually, Tony took the lead since he’d been dealing with the press for so long, but Steve stepped up to his side, wrapping a lose arm over his shoulders. 

“No questions today, I’m afraid,” he announced, ignoring the groan from the crowd. “A statement will be released before the day is out.” 

Steve led Tony away, muttering a quiet, “Medical.” 

Tony stiffened under Steve’s arm. “Who?” 

“Clint.” 

… 

Tony paced in the waiting room, rubbing at his temple wearily. He’d contacted Fury about releasing a statement, had pestered the doctors for news on Clint, had refused every attempt to get him to sit down and he was getting to the end of his rope. 

Tony did not deal well with waiting. 

Finally, a doctor stepped into the room, clearing his throat nervously. Tony thought he probably had cause to be nervous, since he was standing under the combined focus of a rather stressed bunch of Avengers. 

“Mr Barton is going to be fine,” he started with, relaxing slightly as they all blew out breaths of relief. “He’s going to be in pain for a few weeks, and his leg will be in a cast for at least eight weeks, but aside from that, he’ll be okay.” 

Tony’s legs shook beneath him as the adrenaline drained away. Steve snagged his arm and pulled him into the seat beside him, his arm settling comfortingly around his shoulders. 

“He’s awake, and you can see him,” the doctor finished with a small smile. “One at a time and not for long if you please. You all look like you could do with getting some rest yourselves.” 

Nat stood and nobody fought her on being the first one to go in and see the archer. Tony let his head fall back against Steve’s eyes and he closed his eyes. 

…

III

“Clint, why are you wearing a scarf indoors?” Tony asked, when the archer hobbled into the rec room. Tony had hit a block on the new arrows he’d been working on and had decided to veg in front of the tv for a little while. 

“Cold,” Clint muttered, pulling the mauve wool tighter around his neck. He fell onto the couch beside the genius. 

Tony could feel him trembling a little. He grabbed a blanket from the back of the sofa and handed it over. He didn’t expect Clint to cover them both with it, and he certainly didn’t expect Clint to lean back so he was resting against Tony’s side. 

Tense as he was, Tony didn’t think he could possibly be a comfortable pillow but Clint didn’t complain. He kept his attention on the tv instead, leaving Tony to sort himself out in silence. Eventually, when it became obvious that Clint wasn’t expecting anything other than a pillow and a bit of company in front of the tv, Tony relaxed. 

He smiled to himself when he realised that Clint had fallen asleep against him. 

…

IV 

Bruce shook his head as he bandaged Tony’s wounded hands. 

“I hope you know you’re an idiot.” 

Tony snorted. “Sure, sure. It was a miscalculation, that’s all.” 

“Uh huh. You know you’re going to be bandaged for at least a week, right?” Bruce asked, fastening the bandage securely. “And I expect you to take the meds you’re assigned and  _ rest.”  _

“Of course I will, Brucie,” Tony replied dutifully. They both knew full well that he wouldn’t do any of that. 

Bruce raised his hand and pushed Tony’s hair from his face. “Please take better care of yourself?” 

“I’m…” Tony trailed off, his forehead tingling where Bruce’s hand had been. “I will. I’m sorry.” 

“You’re too talented to let yourself be injured like this, okay? We need you, so try and stick around for a while, huh?” 

Tony swallowed. “Will do, Brucie.” 

… 

VI 

Tony has noticed. 

He can’t  _ not  _ notice, really, since he avoids touch as much as he does. The team are getting very touchy feely. Tony doesn’t know when it started to feel normal. He just knows that with each day that passes, it feels more and more natural. 

He thinks about running an experiment, but quickly changes his mind. As used to the team’s touch as he’s getting, he still doesn’t dare to purposefully touch them back. He’d get greedy, because that’s what Tony does. 

He gets greedy. 

Since he can’t help but track the touches obsessively, he knows that Thor is the worst offender. At first, Tony thought that maybe it was an Asgardian thing, touch. A hand on the small of his back, an arm around his shoulder, a hug for no reason other than because he wanted one. 

Thor had even taken to tugging Tony down on the couch for movie nights, pulling him until he’s leaning back against the bigger man, dwarfed in his embrace. 

Tony tries to avoid it where he can. He doesn’t want to hurt Thor’s feelings, but he’s beginning to  _ crave  _ the touches. That’s… not good. Tony can’t let himself get used to it because he has no idea when it’s going to go away. 

He wishes he could just enjoy it in the moment but he can’t because he’s just not wired that way. And anyway, it can’t be an Asgardian thing because Thor doesn’t do it with anyone else. It’s not like he avoids the rest of the team, but he doesn’t seek them out like he does with Tony. 

He doesn’t encourage them to be closer. 

It’s very strange and Tony simultaneously loves it and is very suspicious of it. People don’t want him that close unless they want something off him. He really wishes Thor would just tell him whatever it is that he wants. 

It’s not like Tony would deny his teammates anything he could give them anyway.

... 

“How long has it been seen you slept, Tony?” Steve asked, concerned as the genius stumbled over nothing on his way into the rec room. 

Tony shrugged, bleary eyes struggling to focus on the Super Soldier.  

He was so tired, but lately, every time he’d tried to sleep, his mind had immediately jumped into overdrive and he’d found himself staring up at the ceiling for hours at a time until he eventually gave up. 

Before he could fall again, strong arms were sweeping him up into a bridal hold, and he yelped, automatically flailing until he found something to hold onto. That something turned out to be broad shoulders, and Tony turned his neck to find himself clasped gently but firmly against Thor’s chest. 

“You need to sleep, beloved,” Thor rumbled quietly, turning back towards the door. Tony wanted to protest. Did they think he hadn’t tried? Thor would put him to bed, perhaps even run a hand through his hair, and within moments, Tony would once more be wide awake and staring at the ceiling. 

He didn’t though because Thor wasn’t heading for the penthouse. Instead, he headed through the corridor and down one flight of stairs to his own room instead. Once there, he easily held Tony with one hand while he pulled the sheets back with the other. He gently set Tony down on the bed and shucked his own shoes, belt and jumper, before he climbed in beside Tony. 

“Sleep, beloved,” he murmured, wrapping an arm around Tony to pull him close. 

Tony didn’t have time to complain. He was fast asleep. 

…

+1 

Tony woke slowly, feeling comfortable and warm and like he really didn’t want to move from the cocoon he was in.

Except. 

His pillow was moving, and that wasn’t normal, so he shifted to look up. Vague memories of the night before filtered into his mind as he met Thor’s eyes. 

Thor was bright eyed and smiling and had clearly been awake for a while; if he’d even slept at all. Tony wasn’t sure how much sleep the god actually needed. 

“Good morning, beloved,” Thor said, lifting a large palm to cup Tony’s cheek. “You look much better rested.” 

Tony nodded, leaning into the touch briefly. “Why do you call me that?” he asked. 

“Beloved?” Thor asked and when Tony nodded, he smiled. “Because that is what you are to me. I would very much like to court you properly, if you’d allow it.” 

Tony frowned. That… didn’t seem right. The God of Thunder was… well. Gorgeous. And funny. And you know… a literal god. 

“You can’t actually be serious about this,” he murmured. “You can’t… not me. It’s not a thing that anyone would want with… me.” 

Thor shook his head. “Midgardians are very odd in the traits they find attractive if nobody has ever desired you. You are intelligent and generous, courageous and kind and exceptionally handsome.” 

Tony felt himself getting hotter in the cheeks with every compliment and he ducked his head away. 

Thor chuckled. 

“You’re also humble and cannot accept a compliment.

Thor gently had Tony look up to meet his eyes. “Would you allow my courtship, Anthony?” 

“I…” Tony swallowed hard and hesitantly lifted his own hand to run his fingertips over the back of the hand Thor still had on his cheeks. “I don’t understand it,” he admitted, continuing his words when Thor looked ready to argue, “But I’d be honoured for you to call me yours.” 

Thor shifted forward and rubbed his nose against Tony’s before he smiled against Tony’s lips. 

“That honour would be all mine.” 


End file.
